Grand Theft Auto: From Liberty to Justice
by RihnKuriko
Summary: James Welyn, a young man from the streets of Liberty City, sets his sights on Los Santos several years after the murder of his entire family. As he gets out of the airport he realizes just how much opportunity a kid his age has in Vinewood, but will soon comes to understand that, like everything, even this life has its price.


James stepped out of Los Santos International Airport with a small suitcase. He wore a white shirt, grey hoodie, blue jeans, and dark sneakers, as well as a digital watch and a chain that had someone's name on it. His face was clean, sharp, and slightly square in shape, and his dark brown hair was long, falling a little ways past his jaw. His skin was extremely pale, almost as if he had not seen sunlight almost his whole life. His eyes, though a strikingly deep cobalt color, were narrowed and angry looking.

A man stepped forwards, wearing a green jersey and a hat. He was taller than James by about four inches, had dark skin, and a dumbass looking face. He was waving his hands around in gang-signs and laughing.

"What's up, my boy, Lamar in the house!" he announced, tapping James' shoulder. "Man you're a _lot_ shorter than you looked on Lifeinvader, buddy." James actually considered punching him because of that last remark. "Ah, nevermind. Come on, get in the car, we gon' go uptown for a little race, man." James rolled his eyes as he threw his suitcase into Lamar's Emperor, then got into the passenger seat. The two drove for almost two hours, and then pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, where Lamar hopped out of the car and tapped James' window for him to get out. "This is Hao's lot. Pick one, any one of these cars. You gotta have a vehicle for us to race, dawg!" James' eyes immediately fell upon the grey matte Gauntlet only ten feet away. He hopped into the driver's seat with a grin on his face. "Going with the old car? Man, you are one confident muh'fucker!"

"I like the older looking cars. They remind me of a better time in my life, dickhead." James said, starting the car. "Let's go, bitch." Lamar actually laughed, eager to take up the challenge. He slid over the hood of his Emperor and got in.

"Let's go, motherfucker." Lamar said, turning out onto the street with James close behind him. "Alright, when the light turns green, we go." James didn't reply, and instead waited for the light to change. His Gauntlet was in first gear, his foot on the gas, revving the engine up to make it ready for him to accelerate at any given moment.

As soon as the light changed, James slammed his foot down, revving the engine until the RPM's reached five thousand Revolutions Per Minute. He popped the clutch, shifted gears, and floored it again passing Lamar and staying ahead of him the entire time, taking a hard right as he came up to a corner. He sped up more and more as the race continued, taking the turns fast enough that most drivers would've crashed at least twenty different times. He had reached the fourth gear by the time the two had gotten halfway through the race. He spun the car one hundred and eighty degrees, passing Lamar on his way back to the car lot.

"Damn, you a pro or some shit?" Lamar's voice asked over his phone. James grinned as he shifted into fifth, not the smartest idea, but he was still able to control the vehicle perfectly even in that high of a gear. He drove out of bounds a little bit, drove around the wrong block, and only then did he return to Hao's. He got back to the car lot almost five minutes before Lamar had, and jumped out with a smug grin. Lamar got out of his car with an angry look, but still fist-bumped him. "Good job. Here man, take this shit." James took the Pistol from Lamar without question. "Listen, my boy Gerald might have a job for you. Come on, let me drive you over to his place." James got back into the Gauntlet. "Alright, follow me then," James did as Lamar said, and the two drove down past what looked like a nightclub of some sorts, eventually stopping just outside of a house. They walked up to the door, Lamar knocked, and the two waited. After a minute, another black guy wearing a large white shirt and shades, someone who had obviously been doing lines of coke, paused when he saw the two.

"Lamar, who the fuck this white boy?" the man who had to be Gerald asked, pulling a gun on the two. In a quick motion, James wrested the gun from Gerald's grip, leaving the two in a stalemate.

"Chill, chill!" Lamar said, stepping between the two. "Listen Gerald, my boy's got you, kay? man, he can get the shit from those guys that you've been trying to get for the last couple weeks, man." Gerald looked at James with a thoughtful expression. Eventually, James gave Gerald back his firearm and the two stopped eyeing each other up.

"You sure? This white trash got the shit?" he asked Lamar, thinking for a few moments. "A'right, go down to the overpass, near the Strip Club. There should be a bunch o' fuckers sitting in the alleyway in near there. Take them out, and score me the coke." James grinned, as he had been making drug runs since he was a kid in Liberty City, driving or running away while being shot at.

"You got it. What will you be payin' me for this shit?" he asked, getting back into the Gauntlet. Gerald approached the vehicle and shrugged. "I get it; depends on what I bring back, huh? See you in a few hours." James drove off to complete this job as fast as he could. Soon after passing the club from before, he managed to find the place. He stopped, stepped out of his car, and walked up to the first group of guys he could see.

He pulled the gun out of his pants, firing two rounds as he passed the three men, grabbing the knife of the third one, and using it to slash his throat. He aimed his pistol quickly, emptying the magazine into the next ten gang members who had been alerted to his presence. He reloaded as he took cover behind the crates that were in the narrow hall, and blind fired from wherever the nearest sound came from.

Another wave of guys ran in from the street behind and in front of him, guns raised to fire. James quickly fired at the guys who had tried to flank him, and killed each of them by unloading half of his new magazine into the group. He reloaded the pistol, and started moving up without pausing to look at the people he was shooting. He noticed that some of the men had escaped the tunnel, and didn't think about them until the gunfire stopped.

After he had killed all of the men in the tunnel, he walked around and took all of their ammo, as well as their money, and got back into his Gauntlet. He began chasing the guys who had escaped into a van through the city, trying to ram it into a building or ditch. When he got fed up with it not working, he drew back and shot out its tires as they approached the highway. The car crashed into a nearby tree and James was able to recover the drugs from the back. He went back to Gerald's, and knocked on the door.

"What's up, man?" he asked. James held up the drugs and tossed them to Gerald. "Aw, shit. You got exactly what I needed, man. You've run this kind of shit before, haven't you?" James shrugged. Gerald tossed him a wad of cash, worth roughly five hundred dollars. Lamar appeared behind Gerald and laughed.

"See man, didn't I tell you?" he asked, wrapping his arm around James' neck, to which the young man pushed away. "Man, he's dope, yeah?" Gerald just closed the door. Lamar pretty much danced back to his car. "Shit, man you did good. But you gotta go get your raggy ass some new fucken clothes, bitch. Take this shit." Lamar tossed him another two hundred bucks in cash, meaning James had a total of about nine hundred and fifty dollars.

He drove downtown to the store, and walked inside looking around for something he liked. He ended up buying a pair of dark navy slim-fit jeans, a pair of steel-toed boots, a grey t-shirt, and a black hoodie. After he paid for his clothes, he went to a parking garage, drove to the top of it, and decided to sleep in his car. It was the morning when his cell phone went off, telling him he had a message from an unknown number. He was about to write it off, and get on with the day when the phone began ringing.

"Hello?" he responded with a yawn.

"Are you James? The guy from Liberty?" the man asked in a quick and paranoid voice. "Listen, we can't talk over the phone for long. Come to my house in El Burro heights, we can talk more there." James' eyebrows quirked. He shrugged, started the car, and put the address into the GPS. He drove the mile and a half within an hour, and walked up to the front door. He was let in after a minute of being watched by a camera. Lester was an older looking man. He had lighter hair, wore glasses, was balding, and was overweight in appearance. He was in a wheelchair, and was typing something on his Desktop. "I heard about some of that Gang work you did a few years back in Liberty. You are a good driver, and a smart kid." James gave him a look that said 'get to the point'. "A-anyways, I just wanted to talk to you about an upcoming job with one of the guys I know who's in a bit of a financial bind." James was still silent, his expression explaining he was thoroughly annoyed with the small fat man. "Alright, well, go on, get out of here, erm… you'll be getting a text from this guy within the next couple days, and er, it'll tell you the location you two will be meeting." James nodded and turned to leave. "You don't say much, do you?" James left the house, got in his car, and drove.

He pulled up into an alleyway there was a large group of dudes wearing no shirts, probably drunk and high. He stepped out of the car and pulled the knife out of his belt, walking up to the first guy quickly with a blank expression. He rammed the blade into the man's chest, and dropped him onto the ground.

"What the fuck, man?!" a man from nearby called, rushing to his friend's aid. James pulled out his gun, and fired. "What-?" the man fell into the dirt with a thud.

James quickly hacked, slashed, and shot his way through the mass of the gang, killing everyone who stepped up to take him on. Bullets flew through skulls, blood spattered onto the ground, and bodies piled up. They just kept coming and coming, bringing shotguns and even an automatic weapon at one point into the fight. James fought them with a smile on his face, bullets grazing his arms and legs, but none piercing through any part of his body.

He only stopped when all of the gang members in the area had died, and the sirens of the Police Cruiser sounded off behind him. He quickly covered his face with a scarf, and turned to look at the officers. When they got close enough, he could tell what they held. A shotgun and a pistol. He raised his hands like he was about to surrender.

"Drop the weapon, asshole!" one of them yelled as they got closer. James rounded on them, firing two shots immediately without taking any time to aim. One of the officers fell to the ground, the other one too stunned to realize what had just happened. Before either one could radio in for help, James put a bullet into the other officer's skull, and then shot the first one in the chest to finish him off.

"Welcome to Los Santos, huh?" he asked himself, putting the officers' bodies into the cruiser. He cracked his neck, sparked his lighter, and tossed it into the vehicle's gas tank. He ran off as the car exploded, and ditched his clothes, as well as anything that had blood on it, other than his pistol, and ran back to his car. He peeled off down the street and rejoined traffic before the cruisers would be able to make his car.

He pulled back into the parking garage, drove to the top, and pulled his newly bought clothes out of the passenger seat. He quickly put them on and got comfortable in his car, waiting for himself to fall asleep. It didn't come to him for almost two hours of just laying in that seat. He wasn't scared of the police, or the gang members; he wasn't scared of anything in his life. He just didn't want to fall asleep and relive his family's massacre every time he closed his eyes, but he knew that this wouldn't be any different. He eventually fell asleep, and was brought back to the dark alleyway in Liberty City.

"What the fuck, Catherine?!" he asked, struggling against the ropes his wrists were bound with, looking at the beautiful young woman who was pointing a Combat Pistol at his head. He wasn't scared to die, he was confused by her actions. Catherine was a strong and intimidating woman, born into a military life, and one of the leaders of a powerful gang that operated within Liberty. She was also his girlfriend at the time.

"Quiet. It's better if you don't talk, James," she said in a strong voice, the low light illuminating her silhouette. She walked back several steps, where James could see his parents and sisters tied down and gagged. "You've been helpful these last two years, but it seems your usefulness has run the fuck out. And we can't have anyone telling stories." with her last remark, Catherine shot James' father in the chest. His father fell to the ground with a thud; he was dead before he hit the dirt. "You see, we can't be sure you'll keep your mouth shut." she fired again, the bullet passing through his mother's skull, splattering blood onto his older sister. James threw himself onto the ground, pulling himself to his mother's body as it fell to the ground, and catching sight of her lifeless eyes before Catherine had him pulled up and beaten until he was spitting up blood.

"Let them go!" he begged, his eyes wide with pain and weakness. Catherine hit him in the side of his head with her pistol, then turned to the two girls who were sitting next to their dead parents. She pointed the gun at his first sister, but hesitated. "Catherine, please!" as soon as she heard him speak, she pulled the trigger twice, once for each sister. "You fucking bitch! Why the fuck did you do that?! You know better than anyone I would've kept my mouth shut! You could have just-!" he was cut off by the wave of pain that slammed into his sternum and threw him onto his back. He coughed up blood, finding that every single breath was like inhaling fire. He couldn't speak, or even cry out.

"Sorry, kid." she told him, stepping down on his wound with great force. "It's just something that has to be done." she fired again, another wave of pain racking his body, forcing him to black out from the pain.

He shot straight up as his dream ended and hit his head on the car's ceiling, falling back down with a minor headache. His phone had been ringing, probably for some time, so he picked it up and looked at the screen. It was an unknown number, maybe Lester or someone else he had met since he got to the city. He hit 'Accept' on the screen and held the phone to his ear with a small yawn.

"You're the kid Lester told me about, right?" a man's voice asked, his voice somewhat ragged and strong. James didn't answer him. "You're James, from Liberty?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come to my place, the address is in a text message I'll send you once this call's over." he told him before the call was cut off and James got a text message. He looked at it with suspicion, but shrugged and started driving. It was beginning, James was willingly jumping back into the fire from the frying pan, for no other reason this time than for his own personal gain. He grinned as this thought entered his mind.

He pulled up to the apartment, which was more like a luxury sweet, and buzzed the address. He was immediately let into the place, where a man wearing a suit was waiting for him. He wore thick rimmed glasses, as well as a golden watch. His hair was cut short and was dark brown. He was shorter than James by about two inches, but he was built heavier with muscle it seemed. He had a strong chin and jaw, a crooked nose, and he had a light scruff on his face. His eyes were heavy and demanding, giving him a slightly intimidating look.

"Let's get started."


End file.
